Moving Time
Plaster never mends as neatly as it implodes. Another house with his scar of childhood. Another memory peeling at its poorly spackled edges.
Plaster never mends as neatly as it implodes. Another house with his scar of childhood. Another memory peeling at its poorly spackled edges.
Since we’d stop talking, why hadn’t the graffiti in black Sharpie disappeared off the window’s grate? That’s the problem: lies don’t fade.